


My Boyfriend Threw Hands with the Literal Devil and Won [NOT CLICKBAIT]

by kowaidesuka



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, a smidge of angst, a tad, he SNAPS BACK, spoilers for Lyon's Forging Bonds S support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24090562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowaidesuka/pseuds/kowaidesuka
Summary: “I am so sorry, Lyon,” the second voice said, “That choice is not mine to make.”A pause. Then a gravelly cackle rang out, sending unpleasant shivers down Ephraim’s spine as he gripped at his lance tightly.Or: Ephraim witnesses Lyon's last encounter with Fomortiis in Askr.
Relationships: Ephraim/Lyon (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	My Boyfriend Threw Hands with the Literal Devil and Won [NOT CLICKBAIT]

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE BRAINWORMS AND WROTE THIS IN ONE SITTING. Anyway, I love how Lyon's Forging Bonds support was handled. We stan a self-actualised prince. Special thanks to Ari for giving me a name for Ephraim's horse.

After their tearful reunion two years ago, it had taken a long time for Ephraim to bring himself to give Lyon space once more whenever he needed it. He supposed his clinginess back then wasn’t too out of line for someone who had undergone the jarring experience of killing his best friend, and not even having the time to properly grieve in between saving his own realm and fighting for Askr. They had long since talked it out, reached an understanding - perhaps a better _understanding_ that Ephraim could’ve ever fathomed - and learnt to appreciate their time spent on their own interests as much as the time spent together. 

So while Ephraim usually acquiesced to Lyon’s occasional need to be alone to do his own thing, perhaps he should’ve made an exception this time - due to the recent extenuating circumstance of the Demon King being summoned to Askr as well.

Now, Ephraim rarely questioned the Summoner and Prince Alfonse’s decisions, but in what universe did they _possibly_ expect Fomortiis to ally with them without any repercussions? Especially with him saying all those thinly veiled threats right to the Summoner’s face to raze the entire castle when the time came for it. The wretched creature maring Lyon’s pretty features with his twisted smile, using his mouth to utter truly vile, loathsome things. 

Even if the Order of Heroes was willing to play along with Fomortiis for the sake of leveraging his power, Ephraim and the rest of his friends weren’t. He didn’t have to tell Myrrh twice to avoid the new addition to their ranks- er, well, technically he did tell her twice, considering there were two Myrrhs. But it seemed Fomortiis was only interested in tormenting one person - Lyon.

Two years disconnected from their realm and any remaining influence of the Demon King was not enough for Lyon to completely recover, no matter how much Ephraim wanted it to be so. He had been privy to countless nightmares which he had soothed him from, talking him through the grief and guilt he had still carried like a heavy stone weighing in his heart. The new appearance of Fomortiis, of a still possessed Lyon, had shaken his own Lyon, he knew. Somehow the slimy dastard had wiggled himself back into Lyon’s mind, eating away at him, and Ephraim had been helpless to stop it every time. 

_Not this time,_ he thought, still searching the castle halls furiously for a sign of Lyon. Ephraim had suggested earlier he and Lyon should go watch the dress rehearsal for Cecilia and Mae’s new magical girl musical, as a distraction from That Extenuating Circumstance. Ephraim himself wasn’t one for plays unless there was some form of melee duelling scene, and on top of that he preferred not to be in Cecilia’s company if he could help it. He still remembered the way she had remarked so callously on his ineptitude to magic, reminiscent of the way Father MacGregor used to scold him, which brought about a sense of unease within him. But Lyon had immediately brightened at his suggestion, a sight that had sent his heart aflutter, and Ephraim patted himself on the back for being a genius.

“That sounds lovely, Ephraim. Thank you,” the lilac-haired prince said with a gentle smile, taking Ephraim’s hand in his own and squeezing it lightly. “Just allow me a few moments to get ready, then we can get going.”

“Get ready?” Ephraim blinked, confused. “But you look presentable, as always.”

Lyon chuckled at that. “Flatterer.” He butted his forehead gently against his, then tugged at their intertwined fingers; Ephraim reluctantly let go. “I just need to take care of a few things. Wait for me here, okay?”

“Alright.”

It had taken Ephraim several, too-long minutes to realise, _shit_ , he was decidedly _not_ a genius, and Lyon could be out there in the throes of danger because of Fomortiis again. He looked through every inch of the castle, and still no sign of Lyon nor the Demon King. This wasn’t good.

Taking his horse, the white steed he had lovingly named Gambol, out of the castle stables, Ephraim embarked on a trip outside the castle gates, his instinct drawing him to the forest nearby, the one that Mad King Ashnard and the rest of their new recruits inhabited for their scouting mission. He ventured deep into the woods, careful to navigate himself and Gambol through the fog that had suddenly popped up, shrouding his vision. It was completely foolhardy to traverse through the forest so fast, completely blind, but Ephraim didn’t care. He needed to know that Lyon was okay.

He heard it, in the distance, barely over the trot of Gambol’s hooves. A voice all too familiar to him.

“I’ve sent good, honest people to their deaths… I’ve done it gladly… There is barely a shred of good left in me…”

Lyon? But what he was saying made no sense. Unless… the other Lyon, the one he thought was too far gone-

“I tell you this because… for you, there is still time. Time for you to make… a better choice.”

“Fomortiis,” he spat out, trying to lead Gambol closer to the deceptive voice. The horse let out a nervous whinny, shuffling at the ground. He did recall, back in his own realm when he had faced the Demon King, all of their mounts were reluctant to move forward, as if wholly spooked by the demon’s very presence. It seemed like he had to make the rest of his search on foot.

“Sorry, old friend,” Ephraim said after he dismounted the steed, rubbing consolingly at his back. Tying the reins to a nearby tree branch that looked sturdy enough, he drew ever closer to the voice.

Lyon’s voice rang out again, but this time it sounded different. More like his Lyon.

“I am so sorry, Lyon,” the second voice said, “That choice is not mine to make.”

A pause. Then a gravelly cackle rang out, sending unpleasant shivers down Ephraim’s spine as he gripped at his lance tightly. He couldn’t remember; did Lyon carry his tome when he had left him? Or even that flower wreath gifted by Titania, that seemed to work adequately enough for him during battle? Ephraim probably would be able to incapacitate Fomortiis if he had the upper hand and struck first, but the odds were not looking great for them right now with all this fog inhibiting him.

“Thank you, Fomortiis. This has been a powerful reminder of how twisted you truly are,” Lyon continued, in too calm of a voice. Why was he so calm? _Lyon, get_ out _of there,_ Ephraim thought desperately, finally spotting two figures in the distance. Fomortiis, with a twisted ugly sneer, and his Lyon, frowning at the demon with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Ephraim scanned the scene, trying to formulate a battle plan - a sizable forest clearing, good for both close and ranged combat, but all the exit routes from the clearing were twisted and hard to navigate, making it difficult for a quick escape.

“Bearing that in mind,” Lyon continued, “I have new orders for you to follow.”

_Wait, what?_

Fomortiis momentarily looked as taken aback as Ephraim felt, but morphed his face once more into a derisive smile. “ _You_ have orders? For _me_?” The Demon King let out another chilling, hysterical laugh. “You’ve completely lost your senses!”

His Lyon stood his ground, unimpressed. “Whether I am senseless or not, you _will obey_ me.”

 _Oh._ This was… certainly a new development.

“You are not to lay a finger upon anyone without my express consent,” Lyon continued, tone firm, stance straight and unwavering. “Is that understood?”

“Are you _actually serious_?” Fomortiis looked amused. “Or are you feigning insanity in some desperate attempt to trick me? Either way, thank you. This has been an entertaining little diversion. I’d not realised you had a sense of humour.” He continued to cackle tauntingly.

Lyon looked almost bored in response to all of the demon’s cajoling. “Go ahead and finish laughing before you swear your obedience,” he said primly, crossing his arms. “I’ll wait.” 

_Shit._ Seeing Lyon act so confident was absolutely captivating. Ephraim relaxed his stance somewhat, but was still on the lookout for any signs of immediate danger.

Fomortiis ceased his laughter, amusement still in his eyes. “You truly are serious,” he remarked. “Whence comes this new confidence, fragile prince? Could it be that you…” He frowned. “No, you couldn’t possibly…”

“It seems that both you and your host have mistaken me for someone else,” Lyon continued cooly. “I am not the Prince Lyon struggling to resist the Demon King’s insidious offer of power.” He sniffed. “I have already failed that test. Already committed every sin imaginable. I have already confronted Ephraim and Eirika in battle. And I have already fallen.”

 _Lyon…_ It wasn’t as though he and Eirika had truly won that day either. All at once, he was thankful once again for the opportunity to be reunited, once more.

“You thought you were my future. You were wrong. It is the other way around.”

“That’s not possible!” Fomortiis looked aghast. “You… you should be completely consumed! Or dead!”

“All my power was stripped from me in defeat,” Lyon replied. “In that sense, I am nothing compared to you.” He smiled wryly. “What I do possess, however, is knowledge. I know you as well as I know my own hands. Most of all, I know in precise detail how exactly you can be destroyed.”

Certainly true, although neither Ephraim nor the other nobles from Magvel or their counterparts seemed to have brought a stone from their world to encase Fomortiis in. He supposed Lyon would be smart enough to find a suitable alternative in Askr, though.

“No… Madness! No!” Fomortiis gasped, shocked. 

“So,” Lyon continued, “unless you’d like me to reveal the secret of your demise to all who care to listen…” He let the threat hang in the air for a moment. “You will do _exactly as I say_.”

Fomortiis glared at him hatefully, looking more like an animal staring balefully at their master rather than a demonic entity with the power to destroy whole worlds. 

“For now, I leave you in the capable hands of the Order of Heroes, to whom you’ll swear your loyalty,” Lyon finished matter-of-factly, waving off the demon with one hand dismissively. “I trust that we understand each other… _fragile king_.” He then turned his back on the scene as Fomortiis teleported away in anger. The fog started to clear away a little, revealing Ephraim to the startled prince, who drew his flower wreath up in defence.

“Hey, no, it’s only me,” Ephraim reassured.

“Ephraim,” Lyon said, surprised, putting down his weapon. “What are you doing here?”

“I was trying to find you. I was worried that you… that _something_ might have happened to you,” Ephraim said, taking both of Lyon’s hands into his own. “But... I see now I had nothing to worry about, really.”

“So you saw all that.” Lyon stared down at the ground. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting an audience to that… debacle. I’m a little embarrassed.”

“No, don’t be. Hey,” Ephraim said, letting go of his hands to cup his face, tilting it up gently so their eyes could meet. “I’m really proud of you, Lyon,” he said, meaning every word of it.

“Ephraim…”

A moment of tenderness, ending when Lyon broke apart their kiss, leaning his forehead against Ephraim’s. “Come on,” he said finally, gently tugging on one of Ephraim’s sleeves, coaxing him to follow. “Or we’ll miss the beginning of the play.”

Ephraim brought them back to where he had left Gambol, pausing to admire the heartwarming sight of the steed nuzzling Lyon as he untied the reins from the branch. “You know, you should try out for the next musical, should Cecilia continue with her performance programme with the rest of the mages.”

“Oh? And what role should I play?” he asked, matching his teasing tone, as he continued to pet Gambol’s mane.

“A role you can act in your sleep - the dashing, confident prince that has captured my heart,” Ephraim said, chuckling with delight at the way Lyon’s face turned red.


End file.
